


Wanna Bet?

by DevilMadeMeDoIt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Architects, Bottom!Cas, Drinking, Feelings, First Time, Fluffy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Gift Fic, M/M, Schmoop, Strip Games, Topping from the Bottom, abstract angel joke, cas is a sneaky little shit, hipster!cas, losing a bet, pssst cas doesnt have on any undies, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 17:07:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilMadeMeDoIt/pseuds/DevilMadeMeDoIt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is the type of guy who bets on everything, from how fast he can eat a piece of pie to the answer to final Jeopardy.</p>
<p>When he makes a bet with his best friend and loses, they end up half naked in Castiel's living room, playing strip Jenga. </p>
<p>(loosely inspired by How I Met Your Mother)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wanna Bet?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snarkymonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkymonkey/gifts).



 

“Son of a _bitch_.”

 

Castiel huffed out a frustrated sigh as he fought the urge to ball up the design he had been sketching and re-sketching all afternoon. As it was, there was already a pile of crumpled wads of plotter paper in the wastebasket that he'd rejected and the edges of the one on his desk was crinkled around the edges from the half-dozen or so times he'd nearly tossed it in a fit of bitter rage. A chuckling laugh came from the corner where his best friend and fellow architect had his station. “I thought that was my line, Cas.”

 

Castiel turned in his ridiculous 'ergonomic' desk chair, to look at Dean with a glare. He saw the man managing the seemingly impossible task of relaxing in his own matching saddle chair, a grin spreading over his face, the corners of Absinthe green eyes crinkling with it and felt his glare melt into a sardonic smirk. What he needed was coffee. Actually what he needed was a stiff drink and a hard lay, but those would both have to wait. He climbed out of the chair and stretched, tossing his black and orange framed glasses down on the corner of his desk and tried to tell himself he didn't feel eyes on him as he moved toward the lunchroom.

 

Five minutes later with coffee in hand, he paused on the threshold of the room. Dean was leaning over his desk, looking down thoughtfully with a hand rubbing mindlessly over his lips. He took a brief moment to appreciate the view of Dean in low slung faded, broken in jeans, a soft hunter green v-neck sweater with the collar and tails of his white button-up hanging out, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Dean always looked good, even in grungy 'just-worked-on-my-Baby' clothes. Maybe _especially_ in those...but Castiel was getting stupidly off-track. With the exception of a bare handful of extremely intoxicated _experiments_ in college, Dean was for all intents and purposes, straight, and pining silently for his best friend was useless. Not that that had exactly stopped him these last 10 years, but it didn't hurt to remind himself every now and again, right?

 

Mentally shaking his head he pushed through the thick glass doors of their office and Dean looked over his shoulder with a smile. He pointed down to the papers spread over the top of his desk. “Ya know, Cas, these are pretty great.” Castiel snorted. “It's a design for a strip mall, Dean.” He hated that part of the job sometimes. He had followed his ambition to be an architect with dreams of the masterpieces of masonry and steel that he would create straight into a position at the prestigious Adler and Turner Design and Construction Firm that had him designing...restaurant chains, project housing, and strip malls. It was all so _commercial_ and bland and he shuddered to think about it. “Well, yea, I mean it doesn't have the whimsical genius of the Lloyd Wright house or the poetry of Grand Central, but its got...charm.” Dean was fighting not to laugh and Castiel smacked him hard as he leveled what he hoped was a smiting scowl at his friend. Dean's face fell into softer lines and he laid a hand on Castiel's shoulder. “Hey, I said it was great, didn't I? Tell you what, I bet you...” Dean pretended to think. “Drinks at the Roadhouse tonight that Adler thinks its awesome.”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes. There was literally nothing that Dean Winchester would not bet on. Anything from how fast he could eat a piece of pie to the answer to Final Jeopardy and everything in between. “You know, Dean, if you ever bet me real money I might actually be worried that you had a gambling problem.” Dean laughed and crossed back over to his desk. “C'mon, Cas! I'm so sure that Adler's gonna love it that I can almost guarantee that you'll be buying me a beer in,” He looked down at his watch. “Exactly three hours.” He looked back at Castiel, face so sincere and good natured that he couldn't resist. “ _Fine_. But if I win, I'm ordering the girliest fucking drinks ever and making you pay for them.” Dean looked sufficiently horrified, but then Castiel grinned wickedly and Dean's lips quirked into a smile and Castiel could have _sworn_ those bottle-green eyes darkened just a tiny bit.

 

They both turned back to their work, and not one hour later Zachariah Adler showed up and showered Castiel in praise for his new design. Dean waited until the man was clear of the office to throw a fist into the air and crow out victoriously. Castiel sighed and attempted a scowl, but Dean's good mood was catching. Adler was still an idiot, of course he'd loved it, he'd probably love it if Castiel designed him a dog house as long as he could sell it. No, the thing that had Castiel's heart lightening was how Dean had made the effort to make him feel better, in his own way, and he couldn't ignore the old feelings of longing tugging at him.

 

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At exactly 5 o'clock Dean started rolling up the blueprint he'd been polishing for the last week and slid it into the basket of other rolls beside his desk. He ran a hand through his hair and his spine popped as he leaned back hard into the chair to stretch. Opening his eyes he nearly fell out of the stupid Ikea chair when he saw Cas right up against the side of his desk. Cas was dressed pretty much how he always was, in tight, dark blue straight leg jeans, a brick red and navy plaid button-down and a skinny grey tie. The orange accents of his hipster-y glasses brought out coppery streaks in his blue eyes and his hair was always permanently mussed like he'd come into work directly from rolling out from under...Yeah...brain _not_ going there. He licked his dry lips when Cas stroked a finger over the blueprint laid out underneath the glass top of the desk. “Dean...” Cas' voice was soft and raspy. “This is... _beautiful._ What is it?” He cleared his throat. “Uh...that's my dream house.” His breath hitched just a tiny bit when Cas turned midnight blue eyes his way. What the hell? He'd noticed his friend before, sure...and there _were_ those times in college, but...he'd never _noticed_ him quite so acutely before. Cas gave him a small smile, lips curving within the scruff of his stubbled cheeks and jaw. “Well, it's wonderful, Dean. Truly. I hope to see it in reality someday.” Jesus...why was his stomach fluttering? Ok... time to drink. Yep.

 

He shrugged, grinning at Cas to cover as he stood to gather up his coat. Cas had his tan wool pea coat over his arm and slipped into it, buttoning it with long, pale fingers. Dean was ready to go by just zipping up the front of his coat, but Cas had _accessories_. He looped a big circle of blue fabric printed with bumblebees around his neck a few times, adjusting it until it laid perfectly, and then lifted the strap of his “satchel” over his head to cross over his chest. Dean stood there with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “You ready yet, diva?” Cas gave him a scathing look that his own smirk ruined. “Dean, I'm _gay_ not a drag queen.” He slung an affectionate arm around Cas' shoulders and bumped his hip against him as he nudged the man out the door so that they could grab a cab, brain frantically trying to shut down the picture that had formed there of Cas in something long, slinky...maybe blue velvet. Oh Jesus...

 

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Two hours later they were both straddling bar stools at the Roadhouse, nursing beers and tumblers of Johnny Walker Blue Label and Castiel was lamenting his sad, sad lack of a love life. His last big relationship had ended dramatically, and while there had been a few flings in the year since, nothing had lasted and he was ready for something new.

 

“Cas buddy, I'm tellin' ya, just get out there and find someone. They don't have to be “the One” or whatever, but you need to get out there and get you some ass.” Castiel raised an eyebrow at Dean perched next to him, gesticulating with his beer bottle, telling him he needed to get laid. He sighed. “Dean...trust me, I want that, I do, but I'm tired of hook ups. I want...I want someone to build a life with, literally.” He looked down at his fingers wrapped around cut crystal. “I thought I had found that...but...well, you know how _that_ turned out.” Dean's face hardened. “Cas...I know you loved him, but dammit, you would have ended up left at the altar if you'd given Lucifer half the chance before he cheated. You deserve...” His jaw snapped shut and Castiel's head tilted to the side, eyes narrowing just the slightest. “His name isn't... _wasn't_...Lucifer, Dean. And by the way, he hated it when you called him that.” He grumbled, but he was far too curious now. Dean turned in his chair to look at him, eyes solemn. “You just deserve someone better than that, Cas.” The words were soft, deep, and Castiel couldn't tear his gaze away. Was he dreaming? Was he fantasizing this moment? This didn't feel like a moment between best friends...this felt like...the start of _something_.

 

His tongue darted out to wet his lips and felt his stomach clench when Dean's eyes followed the movement. In the next moment Dean was clearing his throat, turning to stare down at his drink before tossing it back. When Dean brought his face back around, his signature panty-dropping grin was there in it's full glory, and Castiel's heart sank when he swiveled his stool around to survey the room. Castiel gulped his own drink, tapped the bar to signal for another and followed Dean's eyes around the smoke-filled space. Across the room stood a woman on her own, and from the look of things, she was devouring Dean with her eyes and doing much more in her mind. Dean swung back, grin still in place and he elbowed Castiel.

 

“Hey, Cas...what do you wanna bet that I can go home with that fox over there?” His eyebrows were wiggling, and Castiel wanted to laugh, but something was burning under his skin now. There was no way he'd imagined that moment they'd had, there was something there and he wasn't going to let it go. It was either go for something, or finally admit that he needed to get over wanting Dean once and for all. He turned a scrutinizing eye toward the woman. She was good looking, he supposed, dark complected, long shiny black hair, dark eyes and a lushly curved body beneath a tight red dress. His mind refused to imagine the two of them in bed together, though she was certainly Dean's type. If you considered Female a narrow enough type. Glancing back at Dean he smirked. “I don't know Dean...what do I get if I win?” He was practically purring and he saw Dean swallow hard before pasting that grin back on. He scoffed. “You can have whatever you want Cas, cause that,” he motioned toward the woman still staring in Dean's direction. “That, is a done deal.” Castiel put his hand out to shake on the bet and he worked quickly to formulate a plan as Dean's calloused palm slipped into his own and shook.

 

Castiel hopped off his stool and threw back his second drink, chasing it with a swallow of beer before giving Dean a wink and heading over the the woman. He let his hips go loose and rolling, nearly a sashay as he walked. Castiel had played 'wingman' for Dean countless times over the years, and it nearly _always_ worked. This time though, Castiel thought, this time, it would go the way _he_ wanted it to. He stopped next to the woman and made a show of looking at her outfit. She glanced at him with annoyance and he took that opportunity to fake-gush. “Oh. My. God. I _love_ your dress!” She looked at him more fully then, and her annoyance faded, smug vanity taking over. “Thanks...” Her voice was a sultry alto. “I think your friend likes it, too. He certainly can't take his eyes off of it.” Castiel leaned in then and whispered in her ear. “Just so you know, honey, he's going home with _me_ tonight.” When he pulled away she was looking at him challengingly and he just smiled brightly and passed behind her, aiming for the men's room. At the last second he stopped. “Feel free to try, though. I could use a good laugh.”

 

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Dean was grinning when Cas flashed him a thumbs up on his way to the bathroom. Man, having a gay best friend was like having the luckiest get-lucky charm ever. Chicks opened up to him, and then he sent 'em Dean's way. This girl though, she looked like she wanted to eat him the way she strutted over on her stiletto's and slid neatly into the space between him and Cas' vacated stool. She ran a long-nailed hand down his arm and looked up at him seductively. “Hi...I'm Lisa.” A shiver skittered down his spine at the purr in her voice and remembered how Cas had sounded when he'd leaned in and asked for the terms of the bet. The bet had been made completely on impulse, the little staring contest between him and Cas had unnerved him and he blustered over it the only way he knew how. Now he had the girl here, and all he could think of was Cas. He flashed a smile at her anyway and introduced himself. “Dean Winchester....architect.”

 

Ten minutes later they were still at the bar, she had slipped onto Cas' empty stool, and were flirting pretty steadily and he was getting closer to closing the deal when he noticed Cas at the opposite end of the bar leaning into some blond Suit Guy's personal space like he belonged there whispering his his ear, stroking his fingertips down the front of Suit Guy's jacket. Then Cas threw his head back and laughed, the sound so low and dirty that you couldn't help but listen.

 

Just that moment, Lisa snapped her manicured fingers in his face, pulling his attention back to her. She had a sour look on her face for a moment before she was back to flirty. “I said, do you wanna get out of here?” He looked at her for a minute, still dumb, and then quick glanced back to Cas. Cas had pulled a business card out of his wallet and was slipping his hand underneath the Suit Guy's lapel to pull out a pen to write, what Dean assumed was his private number on the back. The guy looked smitten, and fuck, who wouldn't be if Cas was putting on the moves like that. Dean felt himself flushing hot when Cas pressed in close and laid a kiss on Suit Guy's cheek before turning and walking over to the coat rack.

 

Dean looked back at Lisa. “Hey, I think I'm gonna have to take a raincheck on that. You could give me your number though?” She looked up at him, disbelief painted all over her pretty face, and he spent less than two seconds waiting before jogging over to Cas. “Hey man, where ya goin?” Cas looked at him with a smile “Oh, Dean! I'm just going to head home, get started on my weekend cloistered away in my apartment. Don't let me interrupt your time with....?” Cas was waiting for Dean to give him the girl's name and he couldn't for the life of him remember. “Nah...didn't pan out. What do you say we go to your place and break out some of that Dewar's you got stashed away and play Jenga?” Cas tilted his head in that adorable confused-puppy way that he did...wait _what_?...and considered. Actually had to _take his time_ and consider whether or not he wanted to hang out with his best friend and get wasted and play board games. Like it should even be an _option_ to choose no. Then Cas grinned, huge and bright, eyes lighting up and Dean felt amazing to have that smile aimed his way. Cas nodded. “Alright, Dean. That sounds like fun.”

 

Cas finished putting on his coat and scarf while Dean shrugged into his jacket and they turned together to walk up the stairs. Dean didn't understand really why he felt the need to touch Cas just then, but he did, and he laid his palm on Cas' lower back, feeling the wool soft under his fingers.

 

So preoccupied was he, that he failed to notice Cas looking over his shoulder and smirk smugly at Lisa, still sitting at the bar and fuming.

 

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By the time the clock was chiming one in the morning both Dean and Castiel were in various stages of undress, giggling around the wobbling Jenga tower threatening to crash down any moment onto Castiel's coffee table.

 

They had gotten back to his apartment and Castiel had poured another round of drinks while Dean was searching through the hall closet for the game. He set the drinks on coasters and sat next to Dean on the sofa and watched him set up the game. For the hundredth time that night since they had left the bar, Castiel's mind was reeling. He hadn't honestly expected his ploy to work, but God did it ever.

 

He had left the woman standing where she was, knowing full well that as soon as he was out of sight she would pounce. He had had other business to attend to anyway. Once he'd gotten into the bathroom he'd texted a friend of his that he knew Dean wouldn't recognize, and asked for help for his little scheme. Castiel wanted to put on a show for Dean, if only to satisfy his curiosity one way or another as to what Dean was feeling. He'd come out of the bathroom to find his friend sitting right where he'd asked him, down the bar from where Dean and the girl were talking, directly in Dean's line of vision. He'd squeezed into Balthazar's personal space and pretended to flirt, and Balthazar had pretended to look lovestruck. Twice he felt hot eyes boring into his back and desire flooded heat through his belly knowing just who's eyes they were. When he'd kissed Balth on the cheek and said a heartfelt thank you, he'd gone to get his coat...and the rest, as they say...was history.

 

Now they were deep into their fifth round of Jenga, rather, _strip_   Jenga, as Dean had suggested in the shyest voice Castiel had ever heard from his friend. Luckily for him, Dean was either purposely knocking the tower over or was so anxious that it made his fingers clumsy, because he was _deliciously_ down to his white button-down, tight black boxer briefs, and socks. Much to Dean's chagrin, he realized too late that Castiel had many more layers on than he did, though neither were complaining too loudly. Castiel had graciously forfeitted his tie for the sake of losing more clothes, and was in just his jeans and socks, Dean having chosen both of his shirts in a row.

 

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Dean couldn't take his eyes off of Cas' chest, his stomach... _God_ those hipbones peeking over the waistband of his jeans. Cas was laughing, breathless, color high on his cheeks from the liquor and laughter. If you'd asked him at the time, he couldn't tell you why he'd suggested strip Jenga, of all things, but he had, and as he felt himself swelling just slightly in his boxers at the sight of so much of Cas bare, he was simultaneously thanking the Gods for the inspiration and cursing them for having lost his pants.

 

He heard the slight hitch of a breath and raised his eyes from where he'd been staring at Cas' neck to find cobalt blue traveling from his almost fully hard cock trapped in the tight black fabric to his face, watching as pupils swallowed iris until they were nothing more than rings of burning blue. “Y-your turn, Cas.” Jesus, when had his voice gotten so hoarse. He swallowed when Cas reached out, hand shaking, eyes never leaving his face and shoved the tower down until it was nothing more than blocks scattered around the floor and table.

 

Cas stood before him, staring down at him with those eyes like drowning pools, and he lifted his foot with a smirk to pull his sock off. Dean felt an answering, almost predatory smirk curve his mouth, and before he realized exactly what he was doing, his hand was around Cas' wrist. “I don't think so. I get to choose what goes next, and I think these...” He raised the other hand and stroked a fingertip along the top of Cas' jeans, feeling goosebumps pop up as skin brushed skin. “I think these should go next, Cas.”

 

Cas shuddered and nodded, shaking fingers reaching for the button, fumbling as he tried to open them. Dean laid his hands on Cas' hips, feeling that jut of bone under his palms, and he slid his hands to the front, pushing Cas' hands away and opening the jeans himself. Button undone, and zipper sliding down, Dean looked up at Cas, at his _best friend_ and pulled in a deep breath. Now or never, dude. He kept his eyes on Cas as he slowly peeled the skin tight denim over his ass, down his thighs. When Cas hissed, he looked down to make sure he hadn't gotten caught on anything and the breath died in his throat. Cas hadn't gotten caught on anything, because under the jeans, it was all Cas and now staring Dean in the face was Cas' insanely hard, leaking cock.

 

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Dean was sitting there, staring at his cock and Castiel was about to explode. He took over shoving the jeans down off of his legs and then he was in Dean's lap, straddling him, groaning as his cock slid against Dean's in his boxers and against his shirt. He was so hot, he wanted so badly, it was all he could do not to just lose it right there and rut up against Dean until he came. But no...that's not what he wanted.

 

He pulled back into himself as much as he could and looked down at Dean, who's eyes were rolling slightly back in his head. Grabbing onto Dean's face he shook him, until Dean was looking at him. “Tell me you want this too, Dean. Please. I need to hear it. I won the bet...this is what I want.” He whispered, leaning forward until the last words were spoken a breath away from Dean's lips. Dean was wide eyed and for a fearful minute Castiel was terrified he would say no, he would leave, and their friendship would be over. Then hands were palming his ass, squeezing as Dean ground himself up into him and they both moaned with the feeling. “If you can't tell by now, consider this me saying 'Fuck yes, I want this.' Want you, Cas.” Their lips were on one another's in the next moment, kissing feverishly, almost frantically as they ground together, and Castiel's fingers were clawing at the buttons on Dean's shirt, starving for the feel of their chests against each other. As he pulled the shirt open, he felt Dean's hips begin to stutter, his breaths begin to pant and he didn't want it this way dammit! With all the power's that be, Castiel managed to stop his own hips grinding down and Dean just looked up at him, confused. The laugh burst out of him, a joyful sound and he held out a hand to Dean as he slid off of his lap.

 

When Dean had his hand, he yanked, pulling him up off the couch, walking backward as fast as he could until his back hit the bedroom door. Dean slammed up against him and his mouth latched onto Castiel's neck, wringing a heated groan from his throat as he sucked a mark in against his collarbone, teeth nipping and it was so much...almost too much. Castiel's hand searched blindly for the doorknob and twisted, spilling them into the bedroom as the door flew open. They stumbled together until he felt the back of his knees hit the bed and he went down, Dean on top of him.

 

Raising his legs he wrapped them around Dean's waist, and as they kissed again, he rolled them. Dean's surprised face looked up at him from the bed and he grinned wickedly. Dean was still in his boxers and Castiel reached behind him to hook his fingers in the elastic. “Off.” He demanded, and he raised up on his knees so that Dean could wriggle out of them, tossing them on the floor. Slowly, he sat back down, and cried out as he felt Dean, hot and thick between his legs. Dean's fingers dug into his thighs and began rocking his hips, trying to continue what they'd been doing on the couch. Castiel leaned forward, hands on Dean's chest. “Dean, I want you inside. So badly. Please.”

 

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Dean was losing his mind. Just...fucking losing it. He was naked, in his best friend's bed, with his naked best friend (who was a _dude_ ) sitting on top of his hard fucking cock begging him to fuck him. Oh God. This was really happening. He knew what he wanted, and that was to be as deep inside Cas as he could possibly get, and fucking hopefully before he came like a fucking teenager. But...this was not something he'd ever done before. He understood the...basics, I mean there wasn't a question of what went in where, but the how? There was supposed to be lube involved, he was pretty sure.

  
  


Cas was looking down at him with eyes gone feverish and he didn't know what to do. After a minute, Cas seemed to pick up on the fact that he was floundering but good, and the soft little laugh that Dean felt vibrate all the way down through his body brought his flagging cock back to attention. He leaned forward and kissed him, soft and sweet and slow as his arm stretched out to open a drawer in the bedside table. He held up a condom and a little blue bottle and smirked. When Dean didn't immediately smile back, his face fell. “Dean...if you don't...if you don't want to do this...it's ok, if you aren't...ready...I can understand.” That was enough of that. Dean wanted to wipe that scared, insecure look off of Cas' face. He pulled Cas down with a hand wrapped around the nape of his neck and kissed him until he was breathless, panting and whimpering against Dean's lips. With his other hand he took the condom and bottle and laid them on the bed. “Hey now, I want this...you just might hafta...talk me through the foreplay.” Cas' eyes crinkled up with mirth then and his mouth moved lower to pepper kisses across Dean's chest.

 

He sat up, rocking his hips in a slow roll that had Dean's eyes rolling back in his head yet again before he grabbed one of Dean's hands and the bottle of lube. When he was focused again, he uncapped the lid and poured lube onto Dean's fingers, coating them in a thick layer before laying the bottle back down. Cas took a breath and grabbed onto his wrist, pulling his hand around until it was resting just beneath the cheeks of his firm, ripe ass. Dean figured he could find his way to the next step and slipped his fingers against hot, smooth flesh until he felt a tight ring of twitching muscle beneath his forefinger. He stroked softly around in circles, listening to Cas moan quietly above him, fingers kneading against his chest. “Okay, Dean...you need to prep me.” He looked up at Cas questioningly and the man smiled serenely. “Stretch me. Push your fingers in, slowly....one at a time until I'm open enough to take your cock.” Oh holy _fuck_. His eyes squeezed shut tight as he fought to hold off his orgasm yet again, fingers still stroking against soft skin. He took Cas at his word and pressed the tip of his forefinger against his hole and groaned hard as he felt Cas open around it, feeling how fucking _hot_ he was inside. He began to slide the finger in and out, slicking Cas up inside and out before he added another finger. He stroked the tight channel of muscle, exploring, and when Cas all but fucking screamed when his fingertip stroked over a small different-feeling patch, he thought he'd fucked up and was about to pull his fingers out when Cas clenched down tight on him and gasped. “Don't you fucking dare. Fuck, Dean. I need you fuck me. Now.” He groaned, apparently, that was a good feeling...he wasn't about to question it, rather he pushed his fingers in harder, dragging against that spot again as he pumped them in over and over, eventually adding a third, until Cas was keening and shoving his hips down, fucking himself on Dean's fingers and fuck if that wasn't one of the hottest things he'd ever seen. Finally, Cas' hand gripped onto his wrist again and he spoke against Dean's ear in a breathy little growl. “I trust you know how to put a condom on, Dean?” He laughed and took the condom, opening it and rolling it down over his aching length with a hiss. Cas kissed him softly on the lips. “I'm going to ride your cock now.” Dean was pretty sure those seven words would be seared into his brain until the end of time.

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He waited until Dean nodded at him and then reached back, wrapping a hand around Dean, stroking teasingly until Dean was writhing, and lined them up. Dean's eyes were wide, watching him as he rocked back, taking him inside half-way with a slow, slick slide of heated skin and they groaned together. Dean's hands were clenching against his ass, as his heat enveloped him. “Oh.....oh _fuck_ Cas. _Fuck._ ” Dean whispered, awestruck. He laughed and Dean's eyes fluttered shut at the feeling. “That's the general idea, yes.” Suddenly Dean's hands dug in hard and he slammed himself the rest of the way inside, tearing a cry of “ _Fuck!!”_ from Castiel's throat. When he opened his eyes he found Dean looking up at him with a smirk. “That's the idea, right?” Castiel rolled his hips then, forward and back feeling the drag of Dean's cock heavy and addictive inside, and before he knew it he was bouncing on Dean's cock with abandon, utterly wanton as he leaned back with his hands on Dean's thighs. Dean was meeting him thrust for thrust and his own cock was slapping between them, smearing pre-come everywhere.

“Oh, God Dean...” He felt weightless, pleasure coiling heavy and tight in his belly as they fucked each other. When Dean's rhythm began to stutter and jerk he knew he was close, and just the thought of having Dean come with his cock buried deep inside him had him crying out. “Dean....fu-fucking touch me.” One of Dean's big, thick hands slid around his body to circle almost hesitantly around his cock. He threw his head back. “Fuck yes! Please, Dean...I'm....gonna come.” Dean's hand squeezed down tightly around him and stroked in time with his own thrusts. “Yeah, Cas...come on my cock, baby. Wanna fill you up, gonna come so hard with you riding me like that, Jesus.” Castiel lasted through exactly three more bone rattling thrusts and came with a hoarse shout over Dean's fist, clenching down hard, shuddering around Dean's cock still pounding inside him, frantic now and Dean groaning out a steady stream of _yesyesyesfuckyesCas_ and then with one final, breath-stealing thrust Castiel felt him twitch and pulse as he came, fingers bruising against his hips.

Castiel collapsed, boneless against Dean's chest and they lay together, chests heaving as they pulled greedy breaths into their oxygen-starved lungs. Castiel raised up as much as he could on wobbling knees and Dean slipped from within him, both grunting softly at the loss, and he felt Dean peel the condom off and toss it to the floor.

The pure bliss Castiel was feeling was slowly fading beneath the gut-wrenching fear that they had just literally fucked their friendship to hell. He froze when he felt Dean's arms wrap around him, and he looked up from where he'd been nuzzling into Dean's shoulder. He found lazy green eyes with his own and didn't know whether to smile, or run screaming from the room in a panic. “Dean...are we going to be ok? Our friendship, I mean.” Dean looked up at him with a tiny frown creasing between his eyebrows. “Cas...we're gonna be more than ok. We both wanted this...and yeah, maybe it was new for me, but I wanted _you_ , still want you. I don't want this once and then go back to what we had.” Castiel's heart was racing, beating, pounding so hard and fast he was afraid he might have heart attack. “What are you saying, Dean. That you want...a...a relationship?” He looked at Dean for any sign of deception or maybe he had fucked Dean's brains out. When Dean nodded, it only made him frown. “But Dean...you aren't...you're not _gay_ Dean.” Dean rolled his eyes and then proceeded to roll them over on the bed until Cas was beneath him. “Castiel Novak...This is what I know. I just had the most, amazing, mind-blowing-est sex of my _entire_ life, with a guy. With you. This is what I also know. You are my best friend, and I love you. Probably more than I ever realized until tonight. So that's what I know. Gay or straight, it doesn't really matter, because I want you, more than just once, and...I'm pretty sure you want that too.” Castiel stared up at his best friend, his _lover_ , openmouthed and shocked. “Dean Winchester, did you just express... _feelings_?!” Dean laughed and kissed him, hot and hard, until it melted slow like hard candy on the tongue into deep searching kisses. They pulled apart, breathless once again and Castiel raised a hand to stroke down Dean's face. “Yes, Dean...I want that. All of that. I think I have for a very long time.”

  
  


 

 

 

 

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Three years later, Castiel was standing on a wide, bare patch of earth watching Dean break ground on the site of their future home. It had started out as Dean's dream home, but now it would be _theirs._

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
